


Prince Charming

by JohnlockRabbit



Category: Dorian Gray - All Media Types, The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
Genre: Angst, Canon-Era, F/M, M/M, idk what this is sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:44:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6251308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnlockRabbit/pseuds/JohnlockRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sibyl Vane isn't the only one with a broken heart tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prince Charming

Basil’s stomach twists into nervous knots as he watches the curtain rise, revealing faded and shabby scenery. How could anyone, let alone  _ Dorian _ , find the love of their life here?

The actors move mechanically, running through the well-known lines of Romeo and Juliet, butchering the words in ways that seemed almost impossible to Basil. Their voices merge into dreary blurs, and Basil find himself beginning to relax. It’s not as though he’s losing anything, he consoles himself. After all, how can you lose something you never had?

However, as Sibyl Vane steps out on stage, he feels his heart begin to sink. She’s beautiful, utterly beautiful. Her mouth opens, throat bared, ready to deliver her first lines.

“Good pilgrim,” She begins, her arms falling limply to her sides, “You do wrong your hands too much...”

Lifeless. That’s the only way Basil can describe her. Her mouth is strained into a forced smile, as she dances with the clumsy Romeo, her ragged skirts swirling around her ankles.

Basil sneaks a sideways glance at Dorian, noting his pale face and furrowed brow. He’s shocked, taken aback by Sibyl’s performance.

“Dorian,” Henry hisses, leaning over Basil, “Are you sure that’s your Sibyl?”

“Quite sure, Harry.”

“Why don’t we wait until the balcony scene?” Basil cuts in, “After all, that’s the best scene to judge any Juliet by.”

So they watch and wait, sitting through the worst rendition of the balcony scene any of them have ever witnessed.

“I’m leaving.” Henry says when it’s finished, standing up to put his coat on, “She’s lovely, Dorian, but she can’t act.”

“I have to stay, but I’m afraid I’ve wasted your evening.” Dorian says coldly.

“Perhaps Miss Vane is sick?” Basil says, putting a comforting hand on Dorian’s arm.

“No. She simply can’t act. She’s useless.”

“Don’t say that, Dorian!”

Dorian doesn’t reply, but simply looks up with cold eyes that send a shiver down Basil’s spine.

“Come on, Dorian. You can’t stay here all night.” Henry laughs, leaning against the edge of their box.

“Go away, Harry! Just leave me alone!” Dorian cries.

The two men jump back at Dorian’s outburst, and several people in the dress circle turn around to squint up at them.

“Come on Basil, I think it’s best if we leave Dorian for now.” Henry says, casually putting his arm around Basil and guiding him towards the door.

Basil allows himself to be lead out of the theatre, breathing in the crisp night air. Clouds overhead indicate a coming storm, perhaps even bringing snow.

“He just needs some time to cool off, Basil.”

“I’m sure he does.” Basil sighs, shuffling his feet and shoving his cold hands deep into his pockets.

“Shall I call for a cab?” Henry asks, the sympathy in his voice causing Basil’s stomach to churn. He knows. He’s known since the day Basil finished that godforsaken portrait.

“I think I’m going to wait for him, just in case.” 

A small smile appears on Henry’s lips, “Just in case.” He says before strolling away, flagging down a cab half way down the street.

 

It isn’t long after Henry leaves that Basil begins to regret his decision; he huddles into himself, pulling his arms into his jacket in an attempt to fend off the cold. The sun has set by now, and there are very few people on the street aside from the occasional unfriendly face leering at him from dark alleyways.

Relief floods through him when the first few people start trickling out of the theatre, laughing loudly in an alcohol-induced rowdiness. 

Soon they all disappear into the night, their laughter growing fainter until it disappeared altogether. Still no sign of Dorian.

He waits and waits, but he still doesn’t come out. And so, with frozen feet and tired eyes, Basil makes his way back into the theatre.

“Dorian?” Basil calls, scanning the inside of the theatre, “Are you in here?”

No reply. At least, not a first. But listening hard, Basil is sure he can hear the gentle sound of someone sobbing behind the closed curtains of the stage.

“Hello?”

“Go away!” Not Dorian. A girl; a young girl. Her voice is high, like a songbird, and all too familiar.

“Miss Vane?” Basil asks, making his way towards the stage.

 

A frightened face appears between the curtains, hauntingly beautiful, even with puffy eyelids and splotchy red skin.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Basil Hallward, I’m a friend of Dorian’s.”  He crouches down so their faces are level.

“Who?” 

Basil sighs and looks down at his hands, “Prince Charming.” He says after a moment of silence, “Your Prince Charming.”

“Has he sent you to take me back? Oh please, Sir-”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Basil says, watching in horror as her face crumples and she starts to cry, her body heaving with loud, heavy sobs.

“He’s the only person I’ll ever love!” She cries, “And now he’s gone.”

“You’re young, Miss Vane.” Basil says gently, shifting uncomfortably on the hard floor, “I’m sure you’ll love again.”

Sibyl’s eyes flash angrily, “I shall never love again!” She screams, hands tightening into tight fists.

“Dorian…” Basil pauses, “ _ Prince Charming  _ doesn’t appreciate love, Miss Vane. He casts people aside, I think it would be wise if you moved on.”

“You don’t know him like I do!” Sibyll says, suddenly earnest, “He loves me, like Romeo loved Juliet! You just don’t understand!” She gestures, trying to convey what she can’t say out loud.

“But that’s a story. Dorian… he may be charming, but he’s hardly a Romeo. He’s cruel in ways you’ll never know.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m good enough for him anyway,” She sighs, looking down at her hands, “I’ll never be good enough.”

“Dear God, at least you have a chance!” Basil cries, clapping a hand over his mouth as soon as he sees Sibyl’s eyes widen in shock.

“Mister? What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, I just… envy you. That’s all.” He says, beginning to stand up, starting as Sibyl places her hand in his, freezing him in his place.

“Is Prince Charming really your friend, Sir?” She asks, her wide eyes looking up at him.

“Not really, I’m afraid he likes Harry rather more than me.” Basil says, letting out a bitter laugh.

“Who?”

“Nevermind, just, be safe okay?” He smiles, detaching his hand from hers.

“Can you at least try to talk to him? Please?”

Basil sighs, exasperated, “Don’t you understand? He’s cold-hearted, people like us, we wait and we wait, until we realise that he’s already gone. And by the time we realise we’ve lost him, he’s already moved onto someone else… You’re not his first, Miss Vane, he’s broken hearts before.”

“Mr Hallward?” Sibyl pulls herself up, standing on her tiptoes so she can look Basil in the eye, “How do you know so much about Mr Gray?”

“I’ve observed him, I know how he works.”

Sibyl stares at Basil for a moment before turning away, lifting her face to the rafters and letting out a wild laugh. “I guess you understand me perfectly.” She says, running her hand through her hair, “We’re the same then, you and I?”

“I guess we are.” Basil says softly.

“And there really is no hope?” 

“I’ll ask, but I really think you’re better off without him.”

“Thank you.” Sibyl takes Basil’s hand once again and squeezed it, “Thank you so much.”

Basil excuses himself and hurries out of the building, shaken by the conversation. He’s undoubting in the knowledge that he has just prevented a terrible act. He understands the young girl’s wild motions, he’s felt her longing many times before. But tonight she will not die. She will go to bed, cry a little, and fall asleep, safe from harm.

 

At least, that’s what Basil hopes she’ll do. He can’t foresee future events. He doesn’t know what tomorrow’s newspaper holds, that he will fall to the floor, the weight of a bone-crushing guilt falling upon his shoulders. 

He doesn’t know about the way Dorian’s eyes will flash cold when he enters the room, a seed of doubt planted in his worship of the boy, wondering if maybe, maybe all is not as it seems.

He can’t see the attic where he dies, finally in the arms of the man he once loved, unbreathing, unmoving.

He is at peace for now.

**Author's Note:**

> So I tried out a new style... Idk if I like it but it'll do for now!


End file.
